


Born of Kaer Morhen

by 2space_lesbo1



Series: Wolf Witchers and a Swallow [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Actual plot, Canon-Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Eskel is a Good Bro, Gen, Geralt is Trying, Kaer Morhen, Lambert is a Prick, Period-Typical Sexism, Vesemir is a Good Uncle, for once, its time bitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2space_lesbo1/pseuds/2space_lesbo1
Summary: Geralt and Ciri finally reach the safest place Geralt knows: Kaer Morhen.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Wolf Witchers and a Swallow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619842
Comments: 17
Kudos: 168





	Born of Kaer Morhen

**Author's Note:**

> listen i HAD TO USE "Born of Kaer Morhen" from "The Call of the White Wolf" ok? ok
> 
> anyway i started wirting this and i cOULDNT STOP omg this is the longest fic i've written in a while
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT I LIKE ATTENTION AND IDEAS FOR FUTURE FICS!!!

Roach releases a heavy breath as they trudge through the forest of thick trees, the leaves rustling overhead. The path they currently followed wasn't as well worn as any path nearer to towns or cities, but Geralt knew it well, nearly like the back of his own hand. He guides Roach along it easily, while Ciri looks around the forest. He's not sure what she could be looking at, this forest looked just like any other forest they'd travelled through. Then again, she didn't have much else to do. 

“We’re nearly to Kaer Morhen,” Geralt informs her, and she shifts on the saddle. Roach snorts and Ciri leans forward, grabbing a few strands of the horse’s hair. “Just a few more hours.” 

Ciri nods silently, before she sighs and releases the mane. Geralt raises an eyebrow, knowing a long talk was about to occur. He's learned how to tell when something is on her mind at this point; when she shifts and grips something, when she sighs heavily and stares ahead at nothing. “You said… that there are other Witchers here? Three of them?” she asked slowly. 

Geralt hums in acknowledgment. “Yes,” he said. “Vesemir, Lambert and Eskel.” 

Ciri bites her lip and shifts how she is sitting again. “What if… what if they don't…” she trails off and sighs again. “What if they don't want me there?” 

Blinking, Geralt is momentarily at a loss for words. He hadn't thought much about that, in all honesty. He's just set his sights on Kaer Morhen, the safest place he knew, and the closest he knew to a home, and set off. He hadn't stopped to think if the three Witchers would accept her or not. Okay, he'd thought about Lambert occasionally, but that was only because Lambert is a prick and didn't like a lot of things. And he was very vocal about it. 

Now that he considered it, he wasn't entirely sure of how the other two would act. Eskel wasn’t as vocal about his discomforts in the fact of discomfort, though would always speak to the other three Witchers later, sure, but Vesemir held his opinion highly. And Vesemir… Vesemir was generally accepting, but that was with young boys that were brought to Kaer Morhen, not young girls. Geralt has no idea what the old Witcher’s outlook on women was. 

And Vesemir’s choice held highest at Kaer Morhen. If he didn't want someone there, they were typically kicked out pretty quickly by the other two Witchers living there. 

If Vesemir was okay with Ciri staying, then the other two would silently boil about it if they didn't like the idea. But if Vesemir wasn't okay with Ciri… 

Geralt shakes himself inwardly. No, he wouldn't have to worry about that, he hoped. Vesemir was a very kind man, despite putting so many young boys through the Trials. That was just what he'd believed, with his ways changed. Geralt would be able to convince him to let Ciri stay, he was sure of it. 

If not, Geralt had a feeling he and Ciri would get very familiar with inns and taverns while living on the run. He didn't want that life for her, but if Vesemir turned her away, he would be turning Geralt away as well. Because of course Geralt would go with Ciri. 

“Don't worry about it,” Geralt replied. “Let me handle it.” 

That seems to ease Ciri in the slightest, because she nods and looks forward again. She's relaxed, until Kaer Morhen’s great, stone walls came into their view, anyway. She tenses at the sight, probably nervous over her earlier fears. He reaches forward, catches her small hand in his own, and gives it a slight squeeze. She gives him a shy smile in return, grateful for his gesture. 

The gate to the entrance is closed, but he already knows Eskel or Lambert was nearby in case of lost travelers. Or Geralt returning home. Lucky for them it was the latter. 

“Hey!” he called, his voice echoing around the large walls. Ciri shifts further backwards, leaning more into Geralt’s chest. “You gonna keep the gate closed on me, dumbass?” 

Whoever answered him would most likely determine how this venture of theirs was going to go. If it was Eskel, it would be a tad more of an easy ride. If it were Lambert, there would be a lot of swearing. 

“Wolf!” came an all too familiar voice, one Geralt had grown up with. Eskel. The laughter that follows it is nice to hear, and Geralt relaxes his own shoulders as the gate opens in front of him. “Get in here!” 

The Witcher greets them just inside of the gate, and he can see the way Ciri winces at the sight of Eskel’s face. Many did that upon seeing him for the first time- the large scar across his cheeks and face was off putting to many. She tenses even further when Eskel’s gaze falls on her, his face only twisting with his confusion for a second before he returned to smiling. 

“Eskel,” Geralt said in greeting. He halts Roach and slides from the saddle, helping Ciri down next. The girl stays glued to his side, fumbling for his hand. He sighs inwardly, but takes it into his own. He knew how strange this place could be at first. “It's good to see you again.” 

The other Witcher crosses his arms over his chest, looking pleased. “And you as well, Geralt,” he said, and then his eyes return to Ciri. “Now, you gonna introduce me to your little friend?” 

Geralt hums and pulls her forward. She hesitates a moment, glancing up towards Geralt, searching for his silent reassurance, and relaxes when he nods slightly. She steps forward on her own now, bowing her head to Eskel in greeting. 

“I am Cirilla,” she told the other Witcher, surprising Geralt. He'd figured he may have had to speak for her, with how anxious she'd been. But her years of living as a princess must have kicked in, because she smiles lightly to Eskel. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I am sorry to come uninvited.” 

Eskel stares for a moment at her face, before he smiles again. He holds a hand out, and Ciri, realizing he wants her to take it, lays her hand across his. He does a small bow as well, somehow figuring out that the girl in front of him had once been a princess. That was Eskel for you. Incredibly clever. 

“Have no fear, Ms. Cirilla,” Eskel said, releasing her hand a second later. He glances to Geralt, who is watching the exchange closely. He knows he can trust Eskel- he would with his life- but he was still on edge, still ready to pounce if anything happened. “If Geralt of Rivia himself invited you, then you are welcome with open arms.” 

Ciri’s small smile turns genuine, and she nods to him. Good. Eskel seems to like her. That was a good first step. 

“Where are the other two?” Geralt asks, stepping back into the conversation. Ciri returns to his side, grasping once more to his hand lightly. 

“Vesemir is in the armory, trying to clear out some of the rubble,” Eskel replied, “While Lambert is out tracking our most recent ‘friend'.” He says the last word with enough contempt for Geralt to know that it was some kind of monster stalking the outskirts of the walls. His grip on Ciri’s hand tightens momentarily, not wanting her to be anywhere near any form of danger. He'd just have to make sure to not let her wander too far beyond the walls, then. 

“Have you figured out what creature it is?” Geralt asked next, falling into step with Eskel as the other Witcher begins to walk further into the castle. He pulls on the chains that hold the gate open, allowing it to close shut once more. Ciri is looking around the castle grounds with awe, having not seen the inside of one in months. It must be familiar to her, almost, the groundwork. 

“Lambert thinks it's a fork tail,” Eskel said, gesturing with his hands as he speaks. Lil’ Bleater bleats from nearby, truffling at the ground for grass. Ciri grins at the goat. “But Vesemir says it's a wyvern. And I always go with what Vesemir says.” 

“Well we luckily didn't run into whatever it is on the way here,” Geralt said, truly grateful they hadn't. He didn't want Ciri anywhere near danger, but especially that of monsters or humans. Not like there was much difference between the beasts, though. 

“Indeed!” Eskel said in agreement. His eyes glance to the girl at Geralt’s side again. He looks pointedly back up at the other Witcher. “Probably would have been an ordeal for you.” 

They reach the armory as Geralt rolls his eyes at Eskel’s words. They would have been fine. Geralt would have been able to protect Ciri and they would have still gotten here without a scratch. Well, Ciri would have gotten here without a scratch. No telling for Geralt. 

“Vesemir!” Eskel calls to the dillapitating building. There was a shout from inside the crumbling slab of rocks. “Wolf is back!” 

There was another shout, this one laughter, and Vesemir steps out from the rubble. His hands are up, and he has a welcoming grin. “Geralt! Welcome back,” he said, and they grip hands together. Geralt nods to him, smiling as well. The old Witcher then takes notice of Ciri, and crouches to meet her eyes. “Well hello there! I don't think we've met before.” If he was surprised to find Geralt with a small girl, he didn't let it show in his face or voice. He was good at that. 

“Cirilla,” she answered, looking Vesemir up and down. She was studying him, trying to decide whether he was friend or foe. She trusted Geralt’s instincts on these things overall, but she also seemed to like to gauge people out on her own. She seems to like him because she smiles brightly at him. “You're the owner of Kaer Morhen, correct?” 

Vesemir scratches the back of his neck, sloppily grinning. “I guess you could say that, little one,” he said in reply. 

“Then I thank you for having me with no notice,” Ciri said, and releases Geralt's hand to bow to the older Witcher. Vesemir chuckles at her action, and waves a hand as she straightens once more. 

“Oh, there's no need for all of that,” he said with another hearty chuckle. He looks up to Geralt, a pointed look gleaming in his eyes. “You must be his Child Surprise.” 

“Yes sir!” she said with a sharp nod and Vesemir laughs, waving his hand dismissively. 

“Call me Uncle Vesemir, please!” he said, and Geralt visibly relaxes, his shoulders sinking and his muscles easing. If Vesemir told someone to call him that, it normally meant that they could stay at Kaer Morhen. “Now, you and Geralt must be starving. Come, let's get you something to eat.” 

Ciri grins as Vesemir straightens back up and glances up to Geralt searchingly. He holds his hand back out and she takes it once more, walking contentedly by his side into the castle. Vesemir and Eskel glance towards them every second or so. Eskel seems shocked to see Geralt so gentle with a child, while Vesemir appears almost amused by it. 

A cat walks near to the entrance of the castle, rubbing along the stone outcropping. It hisses the second it sees them, back arching before it darts away through a crack in a nearby wall. Ciri watches it until it's gone, head titled a little curiously. 

They sit at one of the large tables that used to hold the many Witchers that lived here, Ciri taking in the surroundings of the castle’s inside as they go. “I can give you a tour of it later, if you'd like,” Vesemir offers suddenly, and Ciri glances at him as he lays out a tray of food. Geralt hums when she looks to him for permission, biting into a piece of warm bread. They hadn't had warm food in ages, and he wasn't going to let it go to waste. 

“I'd appreciate, s- Uncle Vesemir,” Ciri said with a shy smile, pulling over a bowl of steaming soup. She stirs it around for a few minutes before she swallows a spoonful, also grateful for the hot food. 

“I could show her the outskirts of the castle,” Eskel said, taking a sip of whatever beverage he currently has in his tankard. Geralt pauses, and sets his piece of bread on his plate. Vesemir showing Ciri around the inside of the castle? He could be at ease with that. She was still safe within the walls, and he could reach her quickly. But outside? Beyond the walls? Geralt frowns tightly and glances towards Ciri, one of his fists tightening to a fist even as she grins at the offer. She would be too exposed. He trusted Eskel with his own life, but not that of Ciri’s. He wasn't ready for her to be too far out of his sight yet. Eskel seems to take notice of his discomfort at the suggestion, because he quickly says, “Or I could show her the grounds of the castle, inside the walls.” 

Ciri’s brows scrunch a little with her confusion at the Witcher’s sudden change of mind, but Geralt grunts in affirmation. “I'll show her around the outskirts after we've caught the wyvern,” he mutters, and then looks to Vesemir. “And after she's comfortable, I was thinking she could begin training.” Ciri grins again at his words, having been excited at the thought of becoming a Witcher. She currently believed she would go through all of the trials- from the Gauntlet to the Grasses- but Geralt would never let her go through the mutations. There was too high of a risk of her not surviving, and he couldn't take that risk. 

Vesemir raises an eyebrow, disbelief written on his expression. He was probably thinking the same thing as Ciri; the whole package, not just the physical and magical training. None of the mutations. “Geralt, you know we only do boys-” 

Ciri scowls at that. “Why only boys? I'm just as capable!” she exclaimed, successfully interrupting him despite her previous shyness and manners. She doesn't break her glare when Vesemir turns his raises eyebrow stare on her face, and it only seems to deepen. “I think it's stupid that you only let boys become Witchers. I'm just as strong and can be as good as any boy!” 

Eskel chuckles as he sets his tankard on the table beside him. He seemed to be heavily amused by the girl, and Geralt could tell he liked her fire. He did, too. She seemed quiet and shy, but on the inside, she was all the raging Lion Cub of Cintra. 

“She wouldn't go through any of the mutations,” Geralt interjects, to stop Ciri from bristling anymore. “I'd only want her to physically train, and possibly learn some of the spells if she can.” 

With a hum of thought, Vesemir crosses his arms over his chest and nods. Eskel smirks in surprise at the oldest Witcher’s decision. He'd probably assumed Vesemir wouldn't budge in his ways. Geralt had thought the same thing, in all honesty. “If you want to put her through the training, then we can,” Vesemir said thoughtfully, looking to the doors as they burst open. Ciri flinches, losing all of her previous courage momentarily to push closer to Geralt’s side for security. Geralt instinctively lays a hand over her, but then, upon seeing who'd barged in, he groans and releases her. 

“There wasn't just one of em, there was fucking three! And there may be more still! Goddamn wyverns…” None other than Lambert wandered into the great hall, muttering to himself and occasionally loud enough for the others to hear. He only seems to notice Geralt sitting at the table when he sits down at himself, a large grin breaking over his face. “Ah, Geralt! You're back!” Then he noticed the girl against the other Witcher’s side, who was staring at him with wide eyes filled with equal parts curiosity and suspicion. She knew he wasn't a threat because Geralt wasn't reacting badly, yet, but she wasn't sure what to think of him. “Who's the girl?” 

“Lambert,” Vesemir said, catching the group’s attention. “This is Cirilla, Geralt’s Child of Surprise.” 

Lambert looks from Geralt to Ciri and then snickers. “You mean the one he said he didn't even want?” he said, and Geralt feels Ciri tense at his side, pull away a little to stare up at him. There was uncertainty in her eyes as she looked at him, and he frowns deeply. “The one he said he'd never collect because-”

“That's enough, Lambert,” Geralt growled, throwing a glare across the table at the younger Witcher. Lambert shuts his mouth, for now, and Eskel knocks him on the back of his head. He then looks to Ciri, whos lip was beginning to tremble. He pushes to his feet, offers her a hand. “Come, Ciri. We should go somewhere else to speak. Privately.” He said this with another pointed glare Lambert’s way. The younger Witcher ignores his gaze, going to grab some food for himself. 

Ciri pushes to her feet as well, but doesn't take his hand, instead walking past him with her head lowered. Geralt grinds his teeth together, growls at Lambert, who throws his hands up in surrender, before he turns and leads Ciri from the dining room and into one of the towers of the castle. 

They trudge up the stairs in silence broken only by their footsteps. Ciri is hugging herself, keeping from standing too close to Geralt, and he is once more reminded of why he really fucking hates Lambert sometimes. Most of the time. That Witcher never knew when to shut the fuck up because he had no damn filter. Now he could have just ruined the relationship he and Ciri had built between themselves unsurely the last few weeks. 

Once they step into the guest room, Geralt slides the door closed and turns to Ciri, who was sitting on one of the chairs in the center of the room. She was avoiding his eye contact, picking at the edge of her sleeves. 

He strides to a chair beside her and takes it in a fluid motion, locking his eyes on her face even as she continues to avoid his. He sighs heavily, runs a hand down his face. “Ciri, don't listen to a damn thing Lambert says,” he said to begin, unsure of what else to say. He wasn't good at this, communication and feelings. Ciri had learned that after traveling with him, but in moments like this, she still unconsciously wanted him to be open with her. He was still learning, but he thinks he's starting to get the hang of it. “He's an idiot.” 

Ciri bites her lip and grips her pants- the pair Geralt had bought for her instead of a dress at the last town. They seem to have last much longer than the previous dresses he'd bought for her, since they did trudge through mud and woodland a lot of the time. He thought it was more practical, and she liked the idea.- and finally looks up to him. There was hurt glittering in her eyes. “But he wasn't lying, was he?” she asked, her voice soft, vulnerable. “You never did come for me before, when I was younger. You really didn't want me.” She was so damned smart. 

Geralt sighs heavily, mutters a soft sweat under his breath and tries his best to gather his thoughts. Then, he reaches out, gently takes her hand in his, rubs a thumb along her knuckles. He was trying his fucking best here, to be comforting. He just hopes she realized that. He has a feeling she did, but he couldn't be sure. 

“It's… it's not that I didn't want you,” Geralt said, because that was the truth. Sure he'd say to other people that he'd rather use his Child Surprise as a large piece of bait for the monsters he hunted, but he'd never meant it. Not once. He knew he could never hurt or give up the child once he'd met them, and he'd been right. “It's just…” he trails off, mutters another curse. He hated being this vulnerable, but Ciri was looking at him with hopeful eyes, and he knew he couldn't stop. “My life- a Witcher’s life… traveling the roads and fighting monsters, getting spit at and chased by bandits… it's not one for a child. I didn't want to bring you into this dangerous life.” 

Ciri stares into his eyes, once more searching. Searching for his truth and honesty, her lips a tight frown. Eventually, she throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hastily returns the embrace, having not expected it. 

“I'm sorry I believed him,” Ciri said, her voice thick with tears. “I've just been so lonely until you found me. I was afraid you didn't want me.”

Geralt squeezes her tightly. “Never believe that I don't want you,” he mutters fiercely, pressing his cheek to the side of her head, her hair tickling his nose. “Because I do, Ciri. As long as you want me.” 

“I do, Geralt,” she said with a quiet sob. She was trying to stay quiet, to not be loud. He squeezes her again. 

“You're mine and I'm yours,” Geralt whispers into her ear, and Ciri nods against his shoulder, wiggles closer into him. 

They don't move until much later, when Vesemir begins to call for Geralt. The Witcher leaves Ciri to draw a bath and clean herself after weeks of being dirty. 

“You called, Vesemir?” Geralt said as he stepped from the tower’s doorway. The three other Witchers are waiting for him in the center of the large room, Lambert with his arms crossed over his chest and an annoyed look on his face, Eskel glaring at Lambert, and Vesemir stepping forward to greet Geralt once more. 

“Yes, Wolf,” Vesemir said. “We were needing to fully discuss our new guest.” 

Geralt locks his jaw and stares daggers at Lambert, who rolls his eyes at him. “Like I said,” he began. “I would like to train her here without putting her through the mutations. We'd already agreed to this.” 

“That is until Lambert came in with his own thoughts,” Vesemir replied, and gestures for Lambert to speak. 

“Yeah, I definitely have my own thoughts to say,” Lambert states, and Eskel groans. 

“Here we go,” the other Witcher mutters. Lambert frowns at him. 

“Shut up Eskel,” he said, before looking at Geralt again. “We've never trained girls here before, and I'm pretty sure none of us are actually prepared to raise a girl through whatever the hell a woman’s maturity is. Did any of you think of that?” 

Great. Another thing Geralt hadn’t thought about. He didn’t know much about a female body’s anatomy- only that at least once a month, they had blood come from the area Geralt didn’t want to think about on Ciri, and that this time caused them great pain. He’d been so focused on outward pains and dangers that he hadn’t even considered any from herself. What would they do once she started having these pains? What if she’d already started before they’d met and already knew what to do? Or what if she’d started while they were on the road, panicked and was too afraid to tell Geralt of it? He hoped the last scenario hadn’t happened, even if he would grow slightly discomforted at the talk of a woman’s bodily functions. He tries to not let it disgust him, even in the slightest- it was just a woman’s nature to go through it- but he couldn’t stop his stomach from twisting at the thought, still.

“We will offer her pain relievers, of course,” Vesemir replied easily, as though the thought didn’t concern him, while it had sent Geralt into a slight panic. The older Witcher’s eyes are gleaming with a knowing look as he meets Geralt’s eyes. “And if she so desires she need not train during one of her cycles.” He spoke of it so easily, like it were no big deal. Geralt would need to take after him, unless he wanted Ciri to feel like she couldn’t speak to him on matters as such.

“Okay, but is she actually strong enough to go through the training?” Lambert rebuttals, not letting up.

“Oh don’t be a sexist prick, Lambert,” Eskel snapped with an exasperated sigh. “You’re already a prick without being sexist, too. Besides, there are plenty of women who can kick your ass and you know it.”

“I wasn’t saying that because she’s a girl, idiot,” Lambert snapped back. “I was saying that because she may not be strong enough as an individual, not because she’s a girl.” He blanches, and looks to Eskel, “What women do you think could kick my ass?”

“Yennefer, Triss, Phillipa, Margarita-”

“You’re just naming off the sorceresses of the Lodge!”

“Because any of them there could kick your ass.”

“Anyway,” Vesemir cut into their useless arguing, bringing their attention back on him. “Before she begins any of her actual training, we can of course screen her, see if she can handle it. But I’m sure Geralt would not have offered her up to the training if he did not believe she could handle it. Right, Geralt?”

Geralt nods without hesitation when he is asked. “I know she can. She is strong and capable,” he said with certainty, staring at Lambert as he says this. Lambert sighs and shakes his head.

“Okay fine, whatever, she can stay,” he said, throwing his hands up dramatically. “Think you’d already made up your minds without me, anyway.”

“Yeah we kind of did,” Eskel said, nodding. “Now, onto the other matter.”

“There are at least two other wyverns around Kaer Morhen,” Vesemir said. “Because apparently, Lambert didn’t finish the job.”

“I was tired!” Lambert exclaimed. “And hungry.”

“I’ll go look for it,” Eskel said. “Since Lambert can’t go through all the way, and Geralt is going to be busy settling Ciri in.”

Vesemir hums in agreement. “You can leave tomorrow, after you’ve shown Cirilla the grounds. I get the feeling she holds people to their word,” he said, and Eskel nods in affirmation.

Lambert waves a dismissive hand as he stretches his arms, cracking the elbows. “Yeah, well, I’m gonna go eat something, I’m starving,” he said, turning quickly to try and leave.

“After you’ve helped fill holes in the main hall and properly met Cirilla,” Vesemir said before Lambert could flee the room, and the younger Witcher sighs in annoyance. He opens his mouth to speak again, but the older Witcher beats him to it. “You are going to help with Cirilla’s training, after all. All of us are, though I do believe you should do a lot of it, since you didn’t get the chance to train anyone else.”

Eskel, Geralt and Lambert frown at the same time. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Geralt asked, side-eyeing Lambert. Lambert glares back at him, taking his expression and words as a challenge. And once Lambert has taken something on as a challenge, he rarely backed down. “Lambert is an idiot, I’m not sure I want Ciri around him for too long. I don’t want his lack of intelligence rubbing off on her.”

“I agree with Geralt,” Eskel said, and Lambert growls. “She seems smart and nice, don’t want her to be around the wrong people too long.”

“Oh haha, very funny guys,” Lambert said, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks back to Vesemir and nods, “Yeah, sure, I guess I could help train her. Have been needing something to take my anger out on.”

Geralt rounds on Lambert and catches his wrist, tightly, yanking him back around to face the other Witcher. “You listen to me,” he said, his voice a low, threatening snarl. Lambert meets his eyes blankly, though anyone who knew him well could spot the slightest bit of fear deep in the cat-eyes. “If you push her too far, hurt her intentionally or take anything out on her in anyway shape or form, I will not let you off easily. She is under my protection, and I plan to keep her safe from anything. Or one.”

Lambert grimaces and yanks his hand from Geralt’s grip, wiping it off on his chest. “Calm down, Geralt, I didn’t mean it,” he said, exasperatedly. He sounds offended, but Geralt didn’t care much. He’d meant his words, and would not take them back. Lambert would have to learnt that, hard way or not. 

“Cirilla is his Child Surprise, Lambert,” Vesemir said, placing a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt lets the older Witcher slowly pull him from Lambert, continuing to keep a narrowed gaze on his face. “You won’t be able to understand it, since you’ve never had a Child of Surprise yourself, but the two people are bound to one another. By Destiny or something else, no one is completely sure, but they are nonetheless. They do anything in their power to protect each other no matter what.” It was a clear explanation, and helped Geralt understand his sudden surge of protectiveness over Ciri. It had been uncalled for and unexpected, but now he understood it better. Damned Destiny.

Not that he minded, in all honesty.

“Even if those ‘threats’ are his friends? People he can trust?” Lambert asked, looking at Geralt oddly. Geralt steels his face, works to make it blankly trained again. It was a tad difficult, but he fixed it, eventually. An embarrassing slip up, especially in front of Eskel, who rarely ever broke his own expression.

“It doesn’t matter where the threat comes from,” Vesemir explained patiently. “They will respond no matter what. Work on understanding that so you don’t provoke Geralt or Cirilla in the future.”

“Okay, whatever,” Lambert said, shrugging Vesemir off. “Where are the holes I need to plug?”

Vesemir points towards the main hall, and Lambert looks as though he is about to move towards them, when the door to the tower opens. All four Witchers look to it as Ciri steps out, softly calling, “Geralt?”

“Over here, Ciri,” Geralt called in return, and Ciri makes her way to the small group. She stands beside Geralt, hesitantly looking Lambert over through her lashes. Lambert returns the action, both finally taking the other’s appearances in fully.

“Hello,” Ciri said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the hall. Her eyes are locked with Lambert’s now, and she lifts her chin from her chest almost defiantly, almost like she were daring Lambert to say anything against her again. “Shall we try again? I am Cirilla. And you are?”

Lambert smirks, eyes twinkling with amusement. He was beginning to like her. “Lambert,” he replied, and bows low. “It is a pleasure to be in your service, m’lady.” 

Ciri stares at him and watches him straighten again. Once he's finished, she looks to Eskel, “Could you show me around the castle grounds now?” 

Eskel's eyes brighten and he nods. She smiles up to Geralt. “That's okay, right?” she ask hesitantly. 

“Of course,” Geralt replied. He doesn't want her out of his sight, but he knew that they'd both have to get used to it eventually. “Just stay close to Eskel.” 

“Of course,” she repeated, and he smiles down to her. She then walks to stand beside Eskel, following him out through the large entrance doors. She pauses in the doorway to glance back at them, eyes meeting Geralt’s, before Eskel urges her through fully. Geralt grits his teeth as the doors close, trying to suppress the need to follow after them. Lambert is already going to work on the holes in the main hall, and so Geralt turns to Vesemir. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asks and Vesemir raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Definitely,” the older Witcher said. “Go and take a bath. You need the wash.”

Geralt scoffs as Vesemir laughs, heading outside of the castle as well. He ends up smirking, however, once more feeling right at home. 

He heads for the baths, muscles aching yet finally at full ease. 

\----

Ciri’s training begins not long after they settle in. Geralt had thought she'd want to rest a bit before she started, but he should have guessed that her fire would not be settled until she started learning to defend herself. 

They helped her settle into one of the guest rooms, pulling the cleanest mattress they had to give her comfort and privacy when not training. The room even had its own bathroom. Vesemir had then started to make the best clothes he could for her, sewing together old pieces of clothing none of the Witchers used anymore or just handing down the clothes the boys who lived here for her to wear. If she had any complaints about her new wardrobe, she didn't voice them. In fact, she seemed to like the new clothing she's been given, turning this way and that to get a good look at herself from all angles. 

They'd ended up cutting her hair shorter, to the length of her earlobes. This she argued against at first, until they reassured her it would help keep the hair out of her eyes and make training easier. She rarely brushed it now, though. Not that it needed much brushing, though. 

Lambert took to his role as her main teacher with more heart than any of the Witchers expected. He'd wake up before dawn and drag Ciri from her room- much to the girl’s distress- and train her with a wooden sword until lunch time. The time after her first training session she'd trudged into the eating hall, feet dragging across the floor. Geralt had greeted her, expecting an energetic reply, only for her to flop on the bench beside him and for her to fall asleep. Lambert had strode in a few minutes later, looking quite pleased with himself. 

“She's exhausted,” Geralt had pointed out, shaking her awake so she could eat and drink. Lambert had winked. 

“That's the idea!” 

Luckily for Ciri, her sword training would end before lunch and then she would head for monster research and other studies with Vesemir. She took to those whole heartedly, scouring through the books and listening to Vesemir with rapt attention. He teaches her how to care for her sword, the differences between the swallow and cat potions, how to read bits of Elder and the signs that a monster was near. 

Then, she would head out to the courtyard for Geralt to teach her hands on fighting. Geralt did his best to not go easy on her, pushing her as hard as she could go and then more when it looked like she was about to stop. He would stop to give a few minute breaks to down some water before forcing her right back into the thick of it. She only mildly complained to him about this, but would continue throwing punches anyway. 

Finally, Eskel would show her how to care for animals. From horses to goats- Lil’ Bleater enjoyed the extra attention- before he would go back to tracking the wyverns that were still running amuck outside of the castle. 

“They're some of the hardest creatures I've ever had to track down,” Eskel said one night while they were eating. Ciri was downing her second bowl of soup, hardly paying attention to the conversation. “Wyverns shouldn't even be that difficult to track!” 

“Maybe your eyes are getting old,” Lambert had snarked with a smirk. 

“If his are, I’m blind,” Vesemir had muttered. 

It was during the fourth week after they'd arrive that things went pretty badly. 

Geralt is setting up the table for lunch- it was his turn today- and sat down to wait for the others to join. Vesemir didn't take long, he’d been repairing a door nearby. Eskel most likely wouldn't show up for lunch that day, he was out trying to track the wyverns again. And Lambert and Ciri should be joining them in the next few minutes. 

“Ciri is doing great in her studies,” Vesemir said, and Geralt can't stop the smile of pride from growing on his face. She was. She was exceeding at almost everything they threw at her, pushing past their expectations and demanding more. She was truly showing the Lion Cub within her. “She already knows the differences between a fork tail and a wyvern.” His voice was laced with pride as well. The four Witchers had basically come together to raise Ciri in their own way, and she was doing fabulously. 

“Speaking of which, I wonder if Eskel has finally tracked our recent friends down,” Geralt said, pouring himself a tankard of ale. He pours one for Vesemir and slides it across the table. 

“Let us hope he has,” Vesemir said, taking the ale gratefully. “I'm getting tired of finding goat carcasses all over the place.” Geralt hums in agreement. 

The doors open a moment later. Geralt looks over, expecting to see Lambert or Ciri, or both, only to see Eskel striding in. Fresh blood is plastered across his face, and his hair, normally brushed back, was a tousled mess. He'd killed something recently. 

“You finally get the bastards?” Vesemir asks as Eskel takes a seat at the far end of the table, setting his swords on the ground beside him. He slides a plate of bread and meat towards himself. 

“One of them,” he replied, already starting to dig into the meat hungrily. His fork and knife scrapes across the plate, and Geralt can feel some kind of dread building up in his stomach and chest. He suddenly wasn't as hungry anymore. “Bastard was a tough one. Lil Bleater had to come along for the ride.” 

Geralt looks back to the doors, waits for them to open as Vesemir and Eskel continue to talk. He tunes their conversation out to focus beyond the doors, listens for Ciri or Lambert. He frowns when he can't hear them, the dread building up. 

“Did you see Lambert and Ciri?” Geralt asked, not caring that he'd just interrupted their conversation. The two Witchers look to him, and Eskel frowns as well now. 

“No, I didn't, actually…” he mutters, and Geralt is already pushing to his feet and exiting the castle. The other two Witchers are hot on his heels; they must have started to feel the same dread. “Maybe they're on the other side of the courtyard, near the stakes.” 

Geralt gets there first, and grits his teeth when they aren't there. He turns again, makes his way to the area the two regularly train and is already searching the ground for clues. The other two remain silent, knowing him to be the best tracker out of the group that still remained at Kaer Morhen. He finds a pair of tracks that match Ciri’s and Lambert’s, and he instantly locks onto them. 

With Vesemir and Eskel following behind him, Geralt sets off to follow the tracks. They lead beyond the castle walls, and Geralt growls silently to himself, ready to kill Lambert if he'd allowed Ciri to venture beyond without his permission. He probably did, and that just pisses Geralt off. 

He keeps his eyes on the tracks, follows them about a mile out from Kaer Morhen and crouches down when he notices a difference in the patterns. “They started running suddenly,” he muttered, more to himself, but he knew Vesemir and Eskel were listening. “They must have seen something, since their tracks before were even and slow.” 

He looks ahead, spots a third set of tracks and his blood runs cold. They were the tracks of a royal wyvern, and they were in the ground near to Ciri’s small footprints. “The last wyvern, a royal one, landed here,” he said aloud, his voice tight. “It seperated Ciri and Lambert, knocked him back into-” he points to a clump of bushes and and Eskel runs over instantly, pulling Lambert from the bushes with ease. He was unconscious, and had a large laceration on his left temple. 

Eskel crouches to begin tending to the laceration while Geralt continues. “The wyvern gave chase to Ciri, started to herding her…” his voice trails off. That's what wyverns did; herd their prey to their den and then play with it there. They had time yet. He pushes back to his feet, locks onto the scent that he recognized was Ciri’s and rushes to follow it. Vesemir quickly hurries after him. 

The farther they go, the more worried and afraid Geralt gets for Ciri. He runs as fast as he could move, keeping his nose attuned and his muscles ready to pounce the moment they found Ciri and the monster. 

They run through underbrush and over a stream, past a pond. They go further up one of the surrounding mountains, and past where the rock trolls resided. He hears the sound of wings beating against the air and a royal wyvern screeching a few minutes later. He pushes with the last of his speed over a boulder and finds the wyvern diving into a cave, likely after Ciri. He leaps into the cave without hesitation, landing on the creature’s back a few thrilling seconds later. 

The wyverns roars again, its head rearing as it lands on the ground with a ground shaking thud. He grips tightly to the scales on the back and unsheathes his silver sword at the same time, readying to kill it when it bucks, throws him off of its back and through the air. He flips and lands on his feet a second later, looking up as the wyvern charges at him, its maw wide open as it lets out another deafening shriek. 

He dodges it by rolling to the side, and Vesemir lands beside him as it turns again, screeching with rage. It flaps its wings, as though preparing to flee, and so Geralt launches forward, stabs his blade through one of its wings and tears. The wyvern shrieks in pain, knocks him aside with its tail. Vesemir rushes forward next, using its moment of weakness to its advantage. 

He slices his blade into the creature’s shoulder, distracting it long enough for Geralt to stab his own blade through its neck. It lets out one final scream before it falls over dead, its tail tip twitching a second after it dies. 

Geralt breathes heavily, eyes already darting around in a panicked frenzy. “Geralt!” they fly to the source, to find Ciri running towards him. He bends quickly, catches her when she throws herself at him. He hugs her tightly, only pulling away to look her up and down for any damage. He can hear her heart thundering in her chest, could smell her fear. And her blood. 

He spots the wound on her shoulder just as she's moving her sleeve to reveal it. 

“Sit down,” he orders her quickly yet gently, guiding her to a rather large rock. She nods and does so, flinching when the wound on her shoulder stings in protest. He can hear Vesemir getting to work to destroy the nearby nests, but he didn't care at the moment. He focuses completely on tending to Ciri’s wound. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” she shakes her head. 

“No. Just the shoulder,” she answered, and he pulls a potion from his belt. She hisses in discomfort as he pours it onto the wound, tightly gripping the fabric of her worn pants. “Thank you.” She said, glancing to Vesemir as well when he returns to stand near them. He waves her off dismissively. 

“What were you doing outside of the castle walls?” Geralt asks, probably a bit harsher than necessary. But he could still feel the adrenaline and panic coursing through his veins, deal the fear clogging his throat. “You know you're not supposed to go out there.” 

Ciri frowns and avoids his eyes suddenly. She wets her lips and sets her jaws, only flinching when he drags a clean cloth along the wound to finish cleaning it. “I… I wanted to see what was beyond the walls,” she finally admitted. “Don't blame Lambert. I begged him to.” 

“He still shouldn't have,” Geralt said, his voice a low snarl. His eyes narrow and Ciri flinches again, this time not from the pain. “And you should have known better.” 

“I-” she cuts herself off, looks at the ground dejectedly and in shame. 

Silence falls over the cave aside from the crackling of the burning nests as Geralt finishes tending to Ciri’s wound. He tightly ties a bandage around it and then stands, helping Ciri up as well. He then glances to the entrance, sees how steep of a climb it is, and knows that he regularly would carry Ciri on his back since it would be harder for her to climb out on her own, but also knowing that she needed some form of a punishment. 

He begins to climb it on his own, and after a second, Vesemir does as well. Ciri hesitates at the bottom, biting down on her lip and shifting on her feet before she starts to climb as well. Or, she tries to. But she slides down multiple times, tearing her hands open and sliding back to the ground. She cries out in frustration as she falls to the ground again, even as Geralt and Vesemir reach the top. 

“You head back to Eskel and Lambert,” Geralt said to the older Witcher. “I'll wait on Ciri.” 

“Don't be too hard on her,” Vesemir said and Geralt waves him off. He trudges down the hill as Ciri slides to the ground again. 

“Looks like we're going to be here all night,” Geralt called down to her. 

Ciri grunts, tries again. Fails again. “Geralt,” she called up to him. “I'm sorry! I just..” she cuts off when she falls again. She had gotten half way up, but then the rock she'd rested a foot on had broken off. “I wanted to see the outside again. I'm sorry I didn't ask you first!” 

“That's right, you should have,” he said, looking up to the sky as it begins to darken. They'd been out longer than he'd realized. She would be getting hungry and tired soon. “But instead you went to Lambert. Probably wasn't that hard to convince him, either, right? You just tell him I'm not the boss of him?” 

“No…” Ciri said, yelps one frustration when she falls again. She'd been closer to the top, and he could tell she was close to frustrated tears by the tremble in her voice. “He-” she falls again- “didn't want me to go-” more rocks fall as she loses her grip- “but I said I'd go-” she falls on her bottom this time, and an angry tear does slip free from the corner of her eye now- “with, or without him.” She lets out a frustrated noise and hits the ground, falls onto her back in defeat. “He just followed to make sure I didn't die.” 

Good job he did at that, Geralt thinks you're himself, but doesn't say it aloud. He looks back down and sighs when he sees Ciri’s state. She looked pained and exhausted and full of guilt. She's learned her lesson by now, he thinks and pushes to his feet and leaps back into the cave. He lands beside her, just as she's scrambling out of the way of where he lands. She looks up at him, tears red and blurry with tears, before she tears her gaze from his and quickly wipes at her eyes with her wrist. He sighs again and kneels beside her. 

“Never go outside of the castle walls without my permission again,” he said to her, voice hard and leaving no room for argument. He waits for her to draw a deep breath in and for her to slowly meet his eyes once more, a few tears streaming through the dirt and grime on her cheeks. “Do you understand?” 

Ciri bites her bottom lip and nods hastily, the guilt of her actions still clear in her gaze. Geralt nods in return and reaches out without thinking, wipes her tears away with his thumb. She seems to appreciate the touch, because she momentarily leans into it, before he pulls his hand away once more, pushing to his feet. He holds a hand out to her and she takes it, gasping as he pulls her up and situates her to be held on his back. Then, he climbs back out of the cave with her holding tightly on his shoulders. 

Once out again, he lets her slide from his back. She sways for a moment when she's standing again, her exhaustion, hunger and pain coming into one force to weaken her, but when he tries to help her straighten again she holds a hand up and regains her balance on her own. Her fire was still burning, then. 

They don't say anything else as they head back Kaer Morhen, even when Ciri steps closer to Geralt and leans a little on him. Only a little. Not much at all, he was hardly supporting her. 

Lambert is already bandaged and awake by the time they get back, and is rushing over to them. Geralt is already tensing, ready to yell at him as well, when he kneels in front of Ciri, something akin to guilt and concern on his face. 

“Are you okay, Ciri??” Lambert asks quickly, looking her over like Geralt had in the cave. He sounded genuinely worried, like Ciri's well-being was a concern on his shoulders. When she nods, he places a hand on her uninjured shoulder and points a finger in her face, “I don't know what punishment Geralt has you on but you can add mine: I won't be teaching you for a week after what you pulled.” 

Ciri's eyes widen and her mouth drops open. “Wh- but-” but she stops herself, shuts her mouth tightly and gives the youngest Witcher a sharp nod. “I'm sorry, Lambert. I put you in danger.” 

Lambert continues to stare at Ciri for a few more seconds before he gets back to his feet, sending glares at the other three Witchers staring at him incredulously. “Shut up, all of you,” he snapped. 

“We didn't say anything,” Eskel points out.

“You're thinking things. So shut up.” he then turns on his heel and storms from the main hall, satisfied that Ciri was alright. 

“That was a very reckless thing you did today, young lady,” Vesemir said in a scolding tone, and Ciri nods, looks back at the ground. She accepts his scolding easily enough, twisting her hands and fingers together. “I will be doubling your work from me as my own form of punishment.” 

Once Ciri accepts his punishment as well, the oldest Witcher leaves the room as well. Eskel comes next, and Ciri tenses, preparing for more scolding, only for the Witcher to offer her a plate of food. She takes it gratefully and begins to eat quickly, nearly choking a few times. 

“You've probably already gotten enough scoldings,” Eskel said with a small chuckle. “Do believe you've already learned your lesson. I'll still teach you about the animals regularly. Just don't do something like that again, little Swallow.” 

Ciri swallows before speaking. “Yes, sir.” 

Eskel takes his leave next. Geralt sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Come on, we'd better get you to your room before you pass out,” he said, and Ciri doesn't protest, she simply follows him from the main hall. When they enter the tower, she stares at the stairs with heavy dread, sighing so heavily it shakes her body. But she sets to climbing them anyway, even as her legs begin to tremble and she starts to lay behind Geralt’s much more sure strides. 

Geralt eventually stops, when they're only about a third up to find Ciri nearly tripping on her own feet. He hums and carefully lifts her onto his back once more, even as she quietly protests. The protests don't last long, however, and she quickly falls still and silent as he continues up the stairs. By the time he makes it up, he's holding all of her weight due to the fact she'd fallen asleep on the way up. 

He can't stop himself from smiling fondly at her resting, peaceful face as he gently lays her in her bed. Even though she'd broken one of his only rules for her and had him severely panicked just a few hours ago, he'd already mostly forgiven her, and was just glad she was alright and safe with him again. 

He tucks a stray hair behind her ear, covers her with the fur blankets that make her bed up. And, unable to stop himself, he leans forward and presses a light kiss to her forehead. 

The Wolf would always protect his Swallow.

**Author's Note:**

> LEMME KNOW IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE THIS???


End file.
